


Edging Closer

by leveragehunters (Monkeygreen)



Series: Two Men and a Single Entendre [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: (I'm so excited that's a tag!), Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Bad Puns, Double Entendre, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff without Plot, Home Improvement, Humor, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Romantic Fluff, Silly, Single Entendre, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:27:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23101690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monkeygreen/pseuds/leveragehunters
Summary: Bucky had an apartment of his very own (okay, technically he co-owned it with the bank) and a neighbour of his very own: Steve Rogers, tall, blond, built and ridiculously kind. Sure, Bucky had accused said neighbour of being a butt-pic snapping pervert, but amazingly enough he'd been forgiven. In fact, he'd been more than forgiven, but even after dating Steve for not-quite-a-year, Bucky's eyebrows shot up when Steve dropped down next to him on the couch and casually asked, "Do you want to try edging this weekend?"(AKA English has a lot of homonyms and some people are just so bad at things)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Two Men and a Single Entendre [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660441
Comments: 41
Kudos: 700





	Edging Closer

**Author's Note:**

> Much like the first one, this is the product of working on my house. Which I am getting ready to put up for sale in July. Hence no fics from me til after then, since every weekend is spent working on the house. But I bought an edger, and a special edging brush, and like 35 litres of paint and this wee sequel popped into my head unbidden - then I suddenly got an unexpected free couple of hours today and BAM. Fic.

"When you asked if I'd be into edging," Bucky's fingers curled, grip tightening as they slipped a little in the thick liquid, eyes hooded as he stared down at Steve, who just grinned up at him, unrepentant, "this was _not_ what I thought you meant."

"Not sure what was so confusing." Steve stood, stretching to his feet— _unnecessarily_ stretching to his feet, hands over his head, back arched—then gently lifted the paintbrush out of Bucky's hand. He set it on the paint tin, then scooped up a baby wipe and started cleaning paint off Bucky's fingers. "You knew I wanted to paint my apartment."

" _Do you want to try edging this weekend?_ Not sure why you'd think I'd get _painting_ out of that." He tried to sound annoyed, he really did, but Steve's touch was gentle, and his grin had morphed into a soft smile as he swiped the last of the paint off Bucky's palm and tossed the baby wipe in a bucket.

"If I'd known how bad you were at it…" There was a glint in Steve's eye as he tilted his head, grin hovering behind the softness.

Bucky wanted to kiss him.

He also wanted to kick him.

These were neither mutually exclusive nor uncommon desires. He settled for a disgruntled grunt.

Steve put a roller in his hand. "You do the wall, and I'll take over the edging."

"Oh you will, will you?" It was his turn to grin. "You think you'll be better at it?"

"Mmmm." Steve wiped down the handle of Bucky's brush before dipping it in paint—and look, it wasn't Bucky's fault it was all painty. He'd carefully dragged it across the top of the wall under the line of the moulding, angled just so, bristles all gathered, just like on the YouTube videos. Did he get a nice clean line? No, he did not. What _he_ got was a mess, a drunken splash-line of paint where paint was not supposed to be.

Steve had cracked up, wiped down the moulding before wiping down Bucky, and now here they were.

Honestly, he was happier with a roller. It wouldn't turn on him.

"You're good at that," he said, watching Steve. He didn't know why he was surprised.

"Edging is easy," Steve said as the brush in his hands—betraying bastard that it was—drew yet another perfectly straight line at the top of the wall, bristles lined up like obedient soldiers. "It's just paying attention."

"Really." He loaded the roller and painted a 'W' on the wall next to Steve's.

"At its heart, yeah. Pay attention, use a light touch. And you need know your," he flashed Bucky something a little too predatory to be a grin over his shoulder, eyes travelling slowly from the tips of Bucky's sock-clad feet to the top of his messy ponytail before settling on his face, "wall. If you know your wall, edging's easy."

Bucky cleared his throat and adjusted his pants. Steve laughed at him and went back to painting. _Jerk._

They painted in silence, Steve humming under his breath as he worked. They finished their respective walls, then swapped, Bucky stealing a quick kiss as they passed.

As Bucky started working on the other wall, eyeing Steve's perfectly straight edges with distrustful awe, he asked, "You ever going to tell me why we're painting your apartment?"

It wasn't like Bucky hadn't asked when Steve had first said his apartment needed repainting. …okay, thinking back, he _hadn't_ asked. What he'd actually said was, "No it doesn't," half-muffled by Steve's chest, since he'd been sprawled over Steve, who'd refused to move from his spot on Bucky's couch when Bucky'd stumbled home from work.

Steve had hummed and walked his fingers up Bucky's spine until they were buried in his hair.

"It doesn't," he'd insisted, except Steve had started rubbing his neck, stupidly strong fingers banishing the aches, and he'd groaned and said, "Yeah, fine, I'll help."

And, once again, here they were. Painting Steve's perfectly serviceable cream walls pale grey—sorry, not grey, _quarter duck,_ which made Bucky wonder if whoever'd named it had ever seen a duck in their life.

"Steve?" he said, carefully rolling up to meet Steve's edged lines as the silence in the apartment became a little too noticeable. 

"Well," Steve said, and paused before saying carefully, "I want the place to look its best before I put it up for rent."

Bucky stopped dead, roller resting against the wall. "You're moving?" He didn't recognise his own voice. It was too high, too…baffled, what a Labrador who'd just had his ball shredded in front of him instead of thrown would sound like if dogs could talk.

But dogs couldn’t talk. And Steve couldn't _move_. They'd been together since Steve's rabbit revelations and an afternoon spent talking caulk, a gradual evolution from entendres to dating to mingling friends to living in each other's pockets and apartments and Steve was part of his _life_. Part of his day to day; his mornings, his evenings, his nights. He'd lose something important, something _essential_ , if Steve moved.

He swallowed hard, emotions clawing for air as epiphany tried to drown him. _Fuck. I_ love _the stupid asshole_ , _don't I?_

"It's not really up to me." Steve wasn't looking at him, was staring at the brush in his hands.

 _What?_ "What?"

"If I rent out my place, the rent will cover the mortgage." Very deliberately, Steve set the brush down on the drop sheet. The plastic squeaked under his feet as he turned to face Bucky, who hurriedly set down his roller. "If I split what I was paying between mine and yours, they'll both go down faster."

Bucky's eyebrows went up, purely pavlovian response, since his brain was occupied trying to make sense of what Steve was saying. "Nope," he finally said, "not getting it."

Steve held up two fingers. "We've got two apartments." He folded one down. "But there's only one us." He looked expectantly at Bucky.

For a moment he just stared at Steve, then he started to laugh. Deep, genuine belly laughs. "You are never, ever," he managed to choke out, "allowed to give me shit about the buns rabbits thinking you were a pervert thing ever again."

"I'm going to give you shit about that until the day we die."

Bucky's heart clenched fast and hard at the implications behind Steve's words, strangling his laughter, but he kept going. "Nope, because, Steve Rogers, I love you but that's going down in history as the worst 'asking someone to move in with you' moment ever."

Light blazed in Steve's eyes as he said, "I love you, too," and Bucky had no control of his hands, they were grabbing Steve and dragging him close and holding him tight, because Steve loved him and he loved Steve and Jesus Christ, how did they end up here?—and Steve was still talking, "but technically it's me moving in with you."

Bucky let his head fall to thump against Steve's chest. Hard.

"Your apartment's bigger." Steve cradled Bucky's head with one hand and whispered in his ear, "And you don't _know_ it's the worst."

Bucky's body shook with silent laughter.

"I bet there's been worse ways. All of history? There must have been."

"No, this was it. This was the worst, the absolute worst. And Steve?"

The tiny smile at the corner of Steve's mouth as they both lifted their heads shouldn’t make him weak at the knees, not when he'd seen Steve _naked_ , but it did. He was desperately afraid—desperately glad?—it always would. 

"I'm still gonna say yes."

It was impossible to tell who moved first, and it didn't matter. All that mattered was the kiss. The kiss and the feel of Steve's hands on him, holding him as tight as Bucky was holding him, and Steve's heart, beating hard against Bucky's chest, and they loved each other. They were gonna live together, for real and true. He almost couldn’t breathe with it—and not just because he was kissing Steve like he wasn't sure he knew how to stop.

When they finally pulled apart, Steve rested his forehead against Bucky's. "Okay?"

It was Steve. From Steve it was always a real question. Bucky gave him a real answer. "Better than."

Steve lifted one hand to run it over Bucky's ponytail and gave it a little tug. "You know this doesn’t mean you get out of painting."

"Does that mean you don't get out of edging?" Bucky waggled his eyebrows as obnoxiously as he knew how.

Steve's laugh was deep and warm, rolling over Bucky like a gentle tide. He scooped up Bucky's roller, put it in his hand, and kissed him. "Guess we'll find out when we're done."

**Author's Note:**

> (The colour's actually Dulux White Duck Quarter, but quarter duck is funnier and what I've been calling it for weeks...why yes, you probably _can_ guess what colour I'm painting the inside of my house :D)


End file.
